Last Sunday evening, the members of our Guatemala Mission Trip spent the evening sharing stories and pictures with our church family. The leader of our trip had asked us ahead of time to ponder a couple of questions and come ready to share what we had experienced. I wrote my thoughts out so that I wouldn't wander too far off the trail. After reading it on Sunday night, my husband told me that I should keep what I had written. I don't know a better way to make something permanent than to stick it on the internet. So here are my thoughts as I had them written:

To share one thing with you - on the 4th day at the work site I noticed a rusted sheet of galvanized steel (roofing) on the ground with tortillas spread out all over it. I also noticed about 150 flies all over the tortillas. That is when it struck me that at home I go nuts over one fly in my house. My family can attest to this - - I go berserk until the fly is dead! But I had lived for 4 days in a place covered in flies and had not been bothered at all. That is SO not me!! In thinking about why I wasn't bothered, I discovered that it was because my focus was where it should be. I was focused on my Jesus and doing His work. Nothing else mattered. For this one week I was unplugged from my world and plugged into God's world. I was separated from the TV, my phone and the computer. The noise of the world was shut out and I was able to tune into God's voice so very clearly. It was a week of being God-centered and for me, it was bliss. When I'm at home I am almost always plugged into this world. My phone is never far away, my iPod keeps me plugged into Facebook when I'm not near a computer, and our TV offers an endless source of noise that we call entertainment.

At home, I am so focused on the luxuries and comforts that I have surrounded myself with that even one fly can make me crazy.

As we started thinking about returning home from Guatemala, I began doing a mental inventory of what I missed at home. TV? No. Phone? No. Computer? No. My house? No. My job? My car? Anything at all? Nope. I finally came to the only thing on my list that I had longed for during that week - worship music. We had heard some hip-hop American tunes on the bus ride and in a restaurant, but there was no constant diet of Christian music.

So what did I learn on this trip? I learned to despise all my stuff. I have spent the last week going through my house and doing inventory. In my head I am constantly saying, "Nope, I don't need that. I don't need that either." My house and my life are filled with things that I don't really need. I plan to make some changes. Some changes have been immediate - -  I have not turned the TV on since we returned. It hasn't been this determined voice in me that refuses to be immersed back into the world, but instead it is just a peaceful desire to not have the noise in my life. Other changes will probably take years before they are complete. I am still sorting many things out in my head.

I also learned that I hate my life that I have allowed to become filled with "stuff." And I learned that I love and adore and am passionate about a life filled with Jesus. My goal is to FILL my life with Jesus.

While we were in Guatemala, a random and odd thought popped into my head. It went something like this, "When I die, I don't want anyone to remember me for loving this world and the things in it. I don't want them to remember me for knowing all the funny lines in a favorite movie, or for having the latest techno toy, or for my nice house or nice car. I want to be remembered as that girl who was radical in her passion to love and serve Jesus."

This morning in church we sang, "When I Survey The Wondrous Cross." The chorus hit me hard -

Love so amazing, so divine

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

He deserves nothing less than that - my life, my soul, my all.

Empty Days and Full Days

I went to visit my Mom in the nursing home last weekend. On the long drive over I thought about how empty her days had become in the last several years. She has only been in nursing home since January 2nd, but for many years before that her life had become very sad and mundane.

Empty days. Sitting in a room with only a bed, a chair, and a dresser. Waiting for someone to come and tell you that it's time to eat the next meal. Listening to people moan or yell down the hall. Having strange people just walk into your room at any given moment. Going to sleep with a roommate whose name you can't remember. Days that have no purpose. None at all.

I know none of us has a choice in the matter. Our days have been numbered by our loving Creator. So even though I don't get to choose how many days I get, I have put in my request for Full Days. I don't want empty days. I don't want to get to the end of my life and sit in a room staring at four walls. I don't want to wake up not knowing where I am or who is sleeping in the bed next to me. I don't want my memories to become so faded that they aren't even real (my Mom has memories of things that never even happened).

Full days. Susan lived full days. She crammed more things in a day than I stretch out into a week. Makes me a bit ashamed. She poured her life into other people consistently. Her days were full, even her very last day was filled with adventure, memories, joy and love.

Two lives that are so extremely different. And when we are the ones getting left behind, we wish for others to have many, many days on this earth --- even if they turn into empty days. But if we are the ones leaving, we want to die while the days are still full. Full of life. Full of activity, people, events, memories, love.

Empty Days. Full Days. The reality is that we do have a choice of sorts. We can become self-absorbed and give up when life gets a little harder. Or we can live a life of giving, a life of reaching out. We can do our best to make sure each day we are granted is a full day. What are you doing to make this day a full one?

Erasing The Days

For years I have kept a dry erase calendar on the fridge. It helps my family remember where they have to be on any given day. When the days would run out at the end of the calendar, I would erase the whole thing and fill it out for the next 5 weeks.

Last fall, I found myself unconsciously beginning a new habit. As I got ready to head to bed each night, I took my finger and wiped that day off the calendar. Another day done. I quickly realized what I was doing and what was driving me to this odd behavior. Each day that I could erase brought me one day closer to the next time I would see Logan. We had left him at college in August and  I missed him terribly. Everyday that went by just brought me one day closer to the time that I would get to see him again. It was a game of sorts, one that made the loneliness a little more bearable.

This January I found myself wiping those days away with a totally different motive. And I don't always wait until bed time to erase the day, sometimes I do it as soon as I think it's "legal." For now, each day that I make disappear takes me another day away from Susan's death. It is another day that our family has made it through grief. It is another day that we are closer to healing.

I have been through grief before, unfortunately. And my experience tells me that the more time that passes, the better life gets. We will one day have some semblance of normal again. We will one day answer the phone without fear of what news it brings. We will one day fully enjoy a good laugh without feeling guilty. We will one day look forward to holidays with anticipation, not dread. And at the end of this day, I will be one day closer to that day.

Perfect

It is beautiful outside today. The sky is the bluest blue, the sun is shining high. The birds are singing their songs of springtime. This afternoon we are attending a wedding of two beautiful people who have honored God in their relationship. They will stand before Him pure today, pledging their love to one another. My thoughts this morning were directed toward what a perfect day today will be for them.

But I was quickly reminded that today isn’t really perfect. The bride’s sister committed suicide a couple years ago and her absence will be felt today. In the midst of so much joy, a twinge of pain will linger.

Today is also the anniversary of my father’s death, 29 years ago. My wedding was not perfect either because he was not the one to walk me down the aisle or to dance with me at the reception. In fact, none of the days since then has been perfect. There have been many days filled with exploding joy, but none have been perfect. Because no matter how joyous the occasion might be, the twinge of pain forever lingers.

And naturally, my thoughts turn to my 3 nieces whose Mother died on New Year’s Day. They will never know another perfect day. Graduations will come soon, weddings will one day arrive, and births are inevitable. And I know those days will hold exploding joy, but they will never be perfect.

Perfect is when everyone is together. Every single person. And that will never happen again.
 
Actually, it will happen. Because we are all believers, the day will come when we are reunited at the throne of Jesus. There is nothing more perfect than that!

Walking Through

"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil."

That is probably one of the best known Bible verses, right after John 3:16.When you read it what do you focus on?
No need to fear even when days are dark?
There is a valley of death somewhere?
God will get us through even the worst of times?

Recently I read the verse in a whole new light. My focus word is 'through.'

Our family is going through very dark days with the death of my sister-in-law, Susan. She was only 46 and died in a tragic accident while on vacation with her family in Hawaii.

We are going through that valley of the shadow of death. But I choose to focus on the fact that we are, indeed, going through it! We will not park and live there forever. We will push forward every day. And even when the day is so dark that we can't seem to see what lies ahead, we will push anyway.

We are forever changed, but we are not ruined. We are not dead. We are not incapacitated. We are grieving, it is hard, but as we push through this grief we will find ourselves arriving at the other side and knowing joy again.